


happy birthday darling

by talesofsuspenses



Category: Marvel
Genre: Anal Fingering, Begging, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-29
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-29 11:23:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19018918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talesofsuspenses/pseuds/talesofsuspenses
Summary: Steve rims Tony because it's his birthday and it's all sunshine and rainbows.





	happy birthday darling

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday baby boy!

“Happy birthday, darling,” Steve says, kissing him on the forehead when Tony finally wakes. It’s still early, the light leaking through is a beautiful pink/orange that gives the whole room a softer, more intimate feel. 

The light softens their skin, somehow, Steve wants to paint the scene - when does he not want to paint Tony, honestly - but he’s gorgeous like this, languid and relaxed, in a way he so rarely is, Steve knows that it’s his way of showing that he trusts him, being around him so open, vulnerable, with his shirt off (literally and figuratively).

They’re in a beach house, Steve’d surprised Tony with it yesterday, they’re staying here for a week, just them, no distractions, no missions, just them. It’s all Tony wants, just Steve. 

For the longest time, in adulthood, no one had ever really gotten him anything, but then again, he’d counted parties as presents. Big ones, with too many drugs and lights and people and, at the time, they were great, the best thing he could come up with.

What were you meant to get a guy who had everything anyway?

And then Steve had come and blown all those parties out the water. The Avengers gave him a family, more people to love, to care about, Steve had given him more love than he knew what to do with - more than he could ever fathom, ever in his almost-half-century come up with, and don’t doubt that Tony had given it all back the same, but Steve, Steve was the first person he’d ever truly loved more than himself.

He must be mellowing with age, if all he wants is _one_ busty blonde. He’s more than okay with that, he realises.

“Don’t remind me,” Tony groans, eyes still shut, hiding his smile in Steve’s chest - 4 years of dating on top of 2 years of marriage and Tony still blushes whenever Steve calls him ‘darling’ when his guard is down.

Truth be told, he never, ever, thought that he'd make it anywhere close to 49, if you'd’ve told him ten, twenty years ago that he’d live long enough to be middle-aged, he would have thrown a bottle and told you to get out of his house. 

At 19 all he thought of was the next day, not the next week, he remembers that it was freeing, he didn't really have any responsibilities, but it was no way to live. It wasn’t sustainable, it wasn't healthy - not by a long shot, but he had fun. 

He’d spent that birthday drunk, in a room full of people he didn't know, and, honestly, didn’t really care about. 

29, he doesn't remember much, he was too drunk, too high, too fucked up to think of anything but the next hit.

He’d hated that. 

Hell, he’d despised it, but he didn't really want to do anything else - yeah he'd had responsibilities and all that, but he didn't care. Unearned, undeserved freedom - it had ruined him. 

He’d spent his 39th birthday in a cave in Afghanistan - that had changed everything, then, he was positive that he'd never make it past maybe 40, 45 if he ever got out the cave. 

He got out the cave, became Iron Man, it feels like a lifetime ago, but it was merely a decade, in that time, he began to care, about others, his company, the people he loves, he made in known.

This last decade, it’s been the best of his life, because, for the first time, he has a family, of more than just people he's paid to be there, and a purpose, something that feels so, so _right_ intrinsically and without a doubt. 

Stark Industries, the weapons, it had never been something that felt like what he really meant to do, just something he had to, carry on the family business.

For the first time in his life, he’s doing something good, he’d turned around SI completely, he’s turned himself around and he's all the better for it. 

He’d never thought that he'd make it to 49, but he’s damn glad that he did. 

“Don’t worry,” Steve says, light and teasing as he runs his hand through Tony’s hair - a sure fire way to get him pliant and relaxed, “you’re still the best looking guy I know.”

Tony blushes at that, he doesn't bother pretending that he didn’t, Steve knows him too damn well, but he stays in his place, face hidden in Steve’s chest, “You’re legally bound to say that.”

“It’s true,” Steve says, in that earnest, pure way he does, “sweetheart, you’re beautiful.”

Tony already had grey hairs when he met him, but since he's known him he’s gotten more, as normal, non-super-soldier people do, and he gets more and more beautiful every day. When he'd met Tony, he’d been well past his grey hair induced crisis, Tony had told him about it, that he was, surprisingly okay with it all.

Tony blushes again, “I’m getting too old for you sweet talk me, honey, I have a heart condition, you aren’t helping matters.”

Steve chuckles at him, more than used to him and his antics, and Tony can feel the vibrations, “Tony, baby, you’ll never be too old for me.”

“Meatball,” Tony says, well aware of what Steve's going to say next. 

“Your meatball.” 

Tony mouths it with him as he says it, “You’re getting predictable, baby,” he teases slowly, trailing his fingertips down Steve's flank. 

Steve, in return, kisses him on the forehead and then flips them over, faster than Tony can process, so Tony's face down on the mattress and Steve's draped over him, not quite pressing into him, but enough that Tony’s surrounded by Steve. 

Steve gets a gently hold of both his wrists and stretches them up and above Tony's head, a silent command passes between them. _They stay there._

“Still predictable?” Steve asks, whispered and low in his ear, just before he begins kissing down his spine, lingering on all the scars, most barely there, a faded white as his hands travel lower and lower, skirting Tony’s hip and resting there.

Steve reaches the small of his back, then goes lower, just above the curve of his ass and nibbles and bites at the skin there, drawing blood to the surface until there’s a nice bruise forming.

Tony groans softly as he grinds into the sheets, “Not-Not exactly the word I would use.” Steve feels so fucking good, he loves his mouth, anywhere on him, kissing him is so, so addictive, it’s a wonder they ever do anything else.

He can feel Steve smiling against his skin as he goes lower to bite kisses on his ass.

“I love your ass,” Steve murmurs, inching closer and closer to his hole.

Tony arches back into his touch, relinquishing friction on his cock, he’s barely aware that he’s doing it, mind getting hazy with pleasure. Surely it was some types of illegal for a man as good and as hot as Steve to be doing the things he’s doing this early.

“Just my ass?” Tony asks when the words finally register.

Steve stops just above Tony’s hole, nosing at his crack, “Your thighs as well,” he says, and then goes to prove it.

Steve grabs a hold of Tony’s hips and flips him over, so he can see how flushed he is. He worries at the skin just above his thighs with his teeth, keeping an iron-solid grip on Tony. He moves down his thighs, kissing and biting until Tony’s writhing and moaning.

His thighs have always been sensitive and Steve had figured that out the very first time they had sex, and then used that fact to his advantage since then. All it took was Steve’s wonderful, skilled, mouth there for him to be pliant and needy.

“Steve, _fuck_ please, baby,” Tony says, eyes screwed up in pleasure, “want you, in me, please.” he knows he sounds needy, but he doesn’t care much.

“You beg so beautifully, darling,” Steve murmurs against his skin. He hefts himself back up the bed to cup Tony’s face in his hands. He blinks up at him, eyes wide, pupils blown so big that Tony’s iris’ were merely thin lines of honey-brown. Steve leans in to kiss him sweetly, lingering, he pushes his tongue into his mouth and lets Tony take control, for as willing and malleable he is, he’s still aggressive and pure _taking_ in the kiss.

“In. Me.” Tony demands, breathlessly, twisting to try and get some kind of friction on his cock. Steve pushes a thick thigh against Tony’s crotch and he gasps, thankful for the pressure.

“I’ll see what I can do, birthday boy,” Steve says, moving away and flipping him back over in a split second, Tony whines at the loss, high and in the back of his throat - a sound that he will deny ever making, but before long, Steve is spreading him open with one hand.

His breath is hot, tantalising, and Tony's about to demand again, but Steve licks a broad stripe against his hole and he loses all higher functions. He kisses his hole and needs his ass with his hands and then carries on licking it open, tongue occasionally curling in and out of the furled opening, just enough to tease Tony, to drive him crazy.

Above him, Tony’s crying out, he’s never been good at being quiet, and Steve loves hearing him, he can barely string together a sentence, everything that he’s saying, he’s maybe 50% aware of it, and he’s positive that it’s all just ‘Steve’.

He loves him so goddamn much, so, so much, he doubts he’ll ever be able to successfully put it into words, even if he were to invent a new language, and Tony Stark damn well could, he’d still barely be able to scratch the surface. His love for Steve runs so deep he doesn’t know where that ends and he begins, it’s such an integral part of his personality now, and he’s not too sure when that started.

“Baby, I could do this all day,” Steve says, muffled between Tony’s ass-cheeks, groaning at the clean, salty, taste. He could, god, he loves Tony’s ass, he loves eating him out, he loves watching him writhe in pleasure above him, he loves _him_ , if all he could ever do was make Tony happy, he would do it in a second, if it were Tony or the shield, Tony or, hell, oxygen, it would be Tony, every time, without fail.

It’s Tony, it always has been, Tony, every single time, he has so much love for him, he feels as though if he doesn’t express it, he’ll implode. 

Tony deserves good things, for the longest time, he had no idea what to get him, what do you get a man who has, seemingly, everything? You give him love, and affection, as much as you can possibly fathom and then some more.

He carries on working Tony open slowly and thoroughly with his tongue until all Tony’s saying is ‘please’, broken and wanton. He trails the fingers of his right hand down and presses against his perineum.

Tony moans, loudly, he’s so, so close, but still not there yet, “Steve, please,” he begs, he doesn’t know what for, but he supposes it does something, because Steve slides in a finger next to his tongue, it goes easily, even without lube, Tony isn’t too sure how long they’ve been doing this, or what time it is, but long enough that they don’t need lube.

Steve wraps his right hand around Tony’s cock, red and leaking, and moves back up the bed. Tony whines at the loss of Steve’s hot, wet mouth, but it’s quickly replaced with a moan when his finger finds his prostate. Not for the first time, he’s grateful that the serum made Steve ambidextrous when he strokes his cock in time with pounding his prostate. Tony doesn’t know whether to buck up into his finger or down into his hand and Steve’s taken to kissing down the side of his neck and murmuring sweet nonsense that he can’t make head or tails of, but it’s so, so hot and just this side of too much.

“Steve, please, Steve, ‘m not gonna last,” Tony groans tilting his head back.

“Come for me, darling,” Steve says, simply, biting down on the juncture of his neck. Tony shudders as he comes, mind spinning with pleasure and relief, the rush of endorphins giving him a high, floaty sort of feeling.

“Happy 49th, sweetheart,” Steve whispers after a while and kisses his temple, sweetly, as if he hadn’t just given Tony a mindblowing orgasm.

Tony groans and turns in his arms to face him, “I wanna sleep for a week,” he mumbles, smiling as Steve chuckles. He snuggles impossibly closer to him, close enough that he can feel every ridge of his muscles.

“We can if you want, but you might want to shower,” Steve says, kissing his forehead.

They’re sticky and it’s going to be gross later, but neither of them mind that much. It’s comfortable, and warm.

“Nah, I’m good,” Tony says, humming and leaning even more into Steve’s touch.

The room is a lot brighter now, and he can hear the birds outside, the sun streaming in full force is warming up the room, but Tony can’t find it in him to move, he’s happy, satiated and relaxed. He could sleep the entire day away and as long as Steve stays with him, he’ll consider it one of his better birthdays, he is mellowing, he realises, and he’s fine, more than, really, with that, he’s lived long enough to ‘mellow’ - younger-him would hate it, drunkenly yell at him, probably, but current-Tony loves it.

Could do it for the rest of his life, even.

**Author's Note:**

> comment/kudos appreciated <33  
> [tumblr](https://nohalfway.tumblr.com), prompts are always open!


End file.
